


Black & Red

by Moriarty_assbutt1



Category: BlackFrost - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 22:11:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moriarty_assbutt1/pseuds/Moriarty_assbutt1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha escapes to the kitchen from the Stark New Years Eve party for some peace and quiet and a decent drink, but a certain god quickly changes that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black & Red

Led Zeppelin’s ‘Black Dog’ could be heard in the kitchen, where Natasha had successfully escaped to in order to make herself another drink. She didn’t exactly trust Tony’s bar, or the fact that it was he who made the drinks. Say what you want about Tony’s engineering skills, but the guy was an amateur at best when it comes to making the proper White Russian.

The whole of Stark Tower reeked of alcohol and cigars, though the latter was Tony’s doing, no matter how much he pressured Steve to try one. Natasha knew that after New Years Eve was done and gone, Pepper would be the one to pick up the pieces while Tony lay, hung-over, on the couch. Still, she compartmentalized that feeling of guilt and reached for a bottle of vodka that she knew Tony hid away in the top cabinet. After a while he stopped touching it and just left it there for her, knowing she wouldn’t go near the stuff behind the bar.

Her senses already dulled from the multiple tequila shots she had endured at Clint’s request, and the thudding music coming from the lounge made her barely notice the light-footed guest who entered the room.

“Cliché.” She heard him mutter from behind her, and she whipped around, bottle in hand.

Loki leaned casually in the doorway, his eyebrows risen in a way that said, ‘are you serious?’ as he eyed the vodka in her grasp.

“Something wrong?” She asked coldly. She refrained from clenching her jaw at how aggravated she was that he’s there. She managed to avoid him at Christmas, when Thor thought it wise to bring an ex war criminal back to earth so he could keep an eye on him while he enjoyed the holidays with his girlfriend. She’d done so by accepting a job from Fury, much to Clint’s disapproval, but she didn’t mind working on Christmas, especially if it meant missing out on Starks ugly reindeer sweater gifts.

But Loki was to stay on earth until the New Year, and this meant he was dragged to Starks New Years party, despite not being wanted there at all.

“A Russian spy drinking Russian Vodka, I didn’t think you would be so predictable, Agent Romanoff.” He smirked at her, and she suppressed a growl of frustration, turning back to the counter to make her drink.

“Is there not someone else who would enjoy your snide remarks far more than me?”                   She muttered, reaching for the coffee liquor.

“Unfortunately, your company is the only one that I can bear.”

“Why is that?” She inquired in a bored tone. She had escaped to the kitchen for peace and quiet, and it seemed that wasn’t going to be possible at all.

“You don’t talk as much as the others.”

She snorted, remembering how one too many drinks could change that pretty easily. She’s got a high tolerance, but what with all Clint’s practically poured into her mouth, she doesn’t expect her soberness to last much longer.  

“You’re smiling.” He observed, a hint of amusement on his words. At first she was confused to how he knows such a thing when she’s got her back to him, but she looked up to see her reflection in the glass cabinet, and Loki’s as he stepped closer, pausing and taking a seat at the island counter.

“So?”

“I suppose you’ve had quite a bit to drink then.”

“Not nearly enough for me to enjoy your company.”

“Shall we change that?” He grinned, eyes flickering towards her bottle of vodka.

The offer sounded like fun, if she was honest, she wasn’t really in the mood for enduring the evening in a sober state. But he would have to reciprocate. She smiled, turning around to face him. Getting Loki hammered and seeing the consequences made her suppress a huff of laughter, she could let the guaranteed hangover be his punishment for calling her a ‘whining cunt.’

“First, drink this.” She said, picking up the bottle of vodka and slamming it down onto the counter in front of him.

“All of it?” He asked, picking it up and turning it over in his hands sceptically.

“I guess so, what the alcohol tolerance for a god?” She sipped her drink and took a seat opposite him.

“High.”

“Then drink it all.”

“Why?”

“We’re going to play a game.”

Loki chuckled, and without much hesitation he unscrewed the cap to the bottle in his hands and pressed the tip of the bottle to his lips. He paused for a moment, eyes fixing on Natasha questioningly; she nodded encouragingly, hiding her amusement. He took a small sip at first, his face contorting in disgust.

“How can you drink such a vile concoction?” He asked, coughing as the vodka burned his throat.

“Drink up.” She smiled, taking a sickly pleasure in his pain.

He tried again, this time used to the burning sensation and he managed to down a considerable amount, his eyes fixed with hers the entire time.

She tried to not focus on the way his Adams apple bobbed with every swallow, how his neck strained to drink the last of the substance. She bit her lip, her eyes finding his again, but this time they were filled with amusement, his lips curled around the bottle as he tried to hide his smirk.

He slammed the bottle back onto the counter with a curt gasp for breath. All of the vodka was gone. She looked from the empty bottle back to him, eyes wide and he merely grinned with victory.

“Was that the game? Or should I expect something challenging?”

“No, that was just the set up.” She replied, sipping her cocktail nonchalantly. “We can’t play a drinking game if one half of the party has already drunk quite a lot.”

“So now we’re even?”

“I suppose, we’ll know when the vodka kicks in.”

“What’s the game?”

“Black or Red.”

He eyed her for a moment, his lips curling as he scrutinised what she was wearing.  A black lace body con dress with red silk beneath complete with a suggestively plunging neckline that caught his eye from time to time. He steals her drink from her hand and mutters before taking a sip. “Cliché.”

She stood, and for a moment Loki thought she was returning to the party, having had enough of his quips, but she reached to high up cabinet, having to go on her tip toes to do so, and procured a bottle of Absinthe. She then bent down to find two shot glasses, and Loki found himself ungraciously staring at her ass. He turned his gaze away, somewhat reluctantly, but he didn’t want her to catch him looking. ‘That vile drink must be working.’ He mused, gluing his eyes to the bottle rather than what Natasha was doing in front of him.

She returned to her seat at the counter and set down the bright green bottle, two shot glasses and a deck of cards. She poured the Absinthe and pushed one glass towards Loki before she began to shuffle the cards. He inspected the green liquid with curiosity and Natasha let out a small chuckle.

“Absinthe, it’s illegal here in the states, but Tony has his connections.”

“Illegal? So it should do the trick then, I suppose.” She shot him a look that said ‘You betcha.’

“The rules, I’m the dealer, I place down one card at a time, and before I do you have to guess if it will be a red or a black card.”

“That is it?” He asked incredulously. “I thought someone like you would have thought up a game with a little more skill or complexity.”

“It’s a simple game, I know, but it works, and I can’t be bothered to go through the rules of something more difficult with you.”

“Eager?”

She rolled her eyes and set down the cards after having shuffled them thoroughly. “If you guess wrong, you take a drink, if you guess correctly, I take a drink.”

“So it just depends on sheer luck?”

“Precisely.” She smiled, not caring at Loki’s apathy. “I think it makes it more exciting.”

“Black.” He murmured, drumming his fingers on the table and promptly setting the game into motion. She flipped a card over.

Red.

Loki sighed and took a shot, he shuddered at the taste, and Natasha grinned at how he seemed to being doing everything in his power not to retch “Red.” She flipped over another card.

Red.

He smirked as she took a shot, watching as she slammed the glass back onto the counter, her lips pursed as she drew her focus away from the revolting taste.

They went on like that for some time, Loki, becoming more interested with every shot, found his mind in a haze, his head feeling heavy and his words slurred.

“I tire of this game, Natasha.” He murmured, running his hands through his hair.

“You’d rather return to the party?”

He snarled in disgust at the idea and looked back at her. His eyes widened to see her pulling her hair around to rest on one shoulder, leaving the other bare, exposed… vulnerable.

“I have an idea.” He stated, gaze still fixed on her neck.

“Please, elaborate.”

“Drink or Dare.” He smirked, pouring another shot. “Something I used to play in Asgard before I was pronounced a villain.”

“Can we skip the sob story and get to the game?” She asked, expecting Loki to react badly to her insensitivity, but he just laughed and poured her another glass.

“You either agree to an activity that can be quite…”

“I know what Drink or Dare is, Loki.”

“Fine.” He said coldly, eyes darkening with frustration. “Drink or dare, Agent?”

“Drink.” She replied, knowing that any dare of Loki’s would never end well.

“Coward.” He muttered under his breath. Natasha took a shot.

“What was the dare?” She asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

“You’ve already taken your drink, it’s too late.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Tell me!” She laughed, leaning forward onto the counter, gifting Loki with a clear view of her chest.

“Kiss me.” He breathed, his eyes finding hers.

“What?”

“That was the dare, for you to kiss me.”

She paused, scrutinising him for a sign of mockery, but she found none. “I don’t think it’s too late for that.”

He wasn’t prepared for her lips on his, her hand raking through his hair and pulling him closer as she kissed him over the counter. She had to rest one hand on the surface to stabilise herself, the alcohol making her dizzy when she stood up so quickly.

His surprise didn’t last long, and soon he was biting and sucking at her lips as she moaned against him, his hands cupping her face. He kicked his chair over as he stood, ferociously wrapping his arms around her as much as their distance would allow. The side of the counter was digging into her hip, but she didn’t want to break the kiss in order to adjust herself. She had only meant for it to be that, a kiss, but there was no escaping it now, the alcohol had only fuelled her pent up desire.

She broke away, but only for a moment, as she hopped onto the counter, dragging Loki down by his collar to meet her lips again. His hand’s moved up her thighs, positioning her hips so he could stand between them. With nimble fingers she managed to undo his shirt and push it off, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. She smoothed her hands over his chest, drinking in the sight of him before he lifted her chin up to kiss her again. His arousal was evident from the hardness in his pants as it rubbed against her inner thigh, and she moaned at the sensation, that was all he needed for conformation, and hastily pulled off her dress.

“Lock the doors.” She gasped, relishing in the way he kissed her neck, sucking on the soft flesh. He broke away, practically running towards the door to lock it and make sure no one could intrude. Natasha used this time to take off her remaining garments, leaving herself completely bare for him. He turned around, eyes nearly popping out from their sockets, and without breaking eye contact he moved back to her, unbuckling his pants.

She reached down to take his cock in her hand, it was impressively large, and she felt heat spark between her legs as she stroked him, slowly and torturously. He groaned, biting the shell of her ear, hands palming her breasts.

“Drink or dare.” She purred, her hand wiping precome over the rest of his cock as she used her other hand to drag her nails lightly over his chest.

“Dare.” He chuckled breathily, feathering kisses over her neck.

“I dare you to fuck me, Loki.”

There was a terse pause, and for a dreaded moment Natasha wondered if this was all some foul trick on Loki’s part to embarrass her and get her undressed. These thoughts were short lived when Loki reached forward, wiping the table clean of the glasses and bottles, allowing them to smash onto he floor while he pushed Natasha onto her back and slammed into her, hitting every sweet spot and making her cry out in pleasure.

“So wet.” He mused, pulling out of her and slamming back in.

She held onto the counter for dear life, her body being rocked up and down from Loki’s powerful thrusts.

“So tight.”

She curled her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, if it were even possible.

“Oh, god.” She moaned, head tilting back and it’s all Loki can do not to lean down and bite at her neck, it’s so exposed. “Loki, Fuck…”

She sat upright, crashing her lips to his as his arms wrapped around her middle. Her orgasm comes crashing down upon her, and she threw her head back as she screamed in ecstasy, her walls tightened around him, bringing him to his climax. Loki groaned against her neck, the noise obscured by the sounds of fireworks and distant cheers.

“Happy New Year.” She laughs, her head heavy and resting on his chest.

Loki’s amusement was cut short by the muffled knocking on one of the doors. Clint Barton was drunkenly shouting for Natasha, asking her if she’d be his new years kiss.

“Shall we take this somewhere more private?” Loki chuckled, kissing her lips before she could respond.

“God, yes.” She moans, her voice breathy and hoarse. They’re gone as quick as a flash, and the next thing she knew, they were in a large bed, laden with deep green silks and golden lace. But it’s the God’s fingers that trace circles down her thighs that really grabbed her attention.

The doors swung open, and Clint stumbled into the kitchen, his head hazy and intoxicated, but he was sure Natasha would be in there, it was the last place he’d seen her. But, in fact, the kitchen was empty, glass broken on the floor and, what looked like absinthe, making puddles by his feet. It’s not until he spots the heap of clothes on the floor and picks up on the distinct scent of sex that he understands what’s happened.

“Shit.”


End file.
